Guns and Roses
by Asuki-sama
Summary: When a guy meets the girl of his dreams, what does he do? Nothing, if you're Nikolai Brenton AKA Brick. Nothing, because a very problematic organization arises to stop you from falling at any cost... The mafia's in town, boys.
1. Too Many, Too Much

_Too many voices…_

 _Too much noise…_

A young man stood alone in the dark. The pulsating beat of the club connected to the alleyway seemed to be the only sound in the back street.

 _Too many lives…_

 _Too much killing…_

He drew his gun. _One tick, two tick, three tick…_

 _Too many jobs…_

 _Too much carnage…_

He steadied his gun to his blank eye, devoid of any emotion.

 _Fire._

* * *

… _*crackle*… Hey Red, that's the last of them. You can take the rest of the night off, 'kay? Blue out._

The static echoed across the empty corridor. The young man set down his gun underneath the designated manhole cover. Another agent would fetch it later. He slowly stood back up and breathed out one long breath. His job was done for the night. He headed back into the lively chaos of the club.

* * *

"My, my, what's with the long face?" Said the big woman manning the bar table. Senora Sanchez was notably one of the most fearsome bartenders of her time. Everything about her was big: her nose, her laugh, her personality, and, most surprisingly, her heart. A big woman with a big heart, more than uncommon in this time of carnage and rape. She'd saved many a girls' lives and employed the most loyal bouncers a woman could ask for. But still, she was a citizen and a victim.

The young man with the red hair had been showing up to her bar as of late and she had made it a personal goal to put a smile on that sidelong face. No person had ever walked into Senora Sanchez's club and came out of it miserable. Not until this young man, at least. _Oi, I must be losing my touch_ , she had thought to herself. No, this young man was a special type of unhappy. He had a different type of hurting, the kind that ripped right through your soul and stayed there, never allowing it to heal up. One without a love to keep the despair at bay. One of woe that the Senora was far too familiar with before she had found her reason to laugh.

He glanced up from his drink, joyless light barely shining in his crimson eyes. He took one slow, deliberate drink from his hardly touched concoction and looked at the Senora with a dead, dead stare. _Oh, son,_ she thought sadly, _someone must've done you so much wrong to look like that._

"Nothing," he finally spoke, "there's nothing wrong. Ms. Sanchez, thank you for all of your hospitality but this is the last time I'll be here." He stood to leave, booze still on the table.

"Nonsense, boy," Senora chided fiercely, "There nobody walk in my door just to say that. Something is a matter. Sit _down_ , boy!" She maneuvered her thick body across the bar counter and wrenched the boy back down onto his seat.

"Now, nobody shows 'ole Sanchez that disrespect, boy. You hear? Tell me what's grating on those nerves of yours or yous bet I'll stick my hawk nose of mine down your throat!"

Senora Sanchez wasn't just the most fearsome bartender of her time; she was the toughest cookie out there. An honest-to-goodness survivor of the Criminal Wars, all four of 'em. You bet your bottom dollar that this young man, who she coulda whipped when she was eight, wasn't gonna get out of this bar easy.

"I was shooting men out of mah streets while yous was quiverin' in your diapers. Sit down and call me Senora, boy!"

The young man sat back down with a defeated sigh, with slight – very slight – amusement tugging at his lips. "You know I can't win with you, Senora."

"Hmph," she started with a satisfied smile, "childs these days. Go on boy, lemme hear it. These old bones don't stay foreva'."

He just sat there for a moment, coddling his recaptured drink. He was unsure of what to tell the overzealous Mother-of-All. That he worked in E.V.I.L? He killed people nightly at her bar? That he was probably going to die alone and unhappy? What was there to say? The smell of the booze, the deafening roar of the music, the sweat and bodies. None of it helped him form the sentences he wanted to, the information he just wanted to throw away and never see again. His desire to just end it all.

 _No,_ he amended; _I have to stay if it were for one reason._ One long-suffering breath later and he looked up again at the patiently waiting woman. His hand twitched for a moment, wanting the comfortable and familiar weight of a gun. "You realize you're not privy to my information, right?"

"Boy!" That earned him a well-earned smack from the huffing Senora. A small smile cracked the too-old-for-a-twenty-one-year-old face. For a brief second, he was transported back to his mother's teasing grin and warm makeshift kitchen, smelling of home. The smile disappeared in an instant.

"Seriously, boy, life is a lil' less scary when yous sees it in a different light." There, that playful chiding tone so much like his mother's, one with so much love and life, one couldn't help but get caught up in it for a second.

Pain filled his senses as he closed his eyes. A heartbeat. "My mother's sick." There, the most innocent of all his problems. Her bright, smiling face, her wispy vermillion hair so much like his own, and her lilting laugh were all burned into his memory. He was unwilling to allow the image of the frail, coughing vision he saw now represent his mother. A gentle tug opened his eyes; warm brown eyes held his as his chin was held up lovingly, like a mother staring at her beloved child.

"Son," Senora choked as she pulled him into a large hug, "yous always welcome here. Every child needs a motherin' thing. I might've never been a mother but I know the pain of being a mother less all too well. Now," she pulled away from him and like an anxious mother, pushed him towards the madness, "go and have a bita' fun. The youth always waste they youth." She watched sadly as he stumbled into the madness of the club. The boy was lying, she realized sorrowfully. He had a far heavier weight on his young shoulders.

* * *

 _Anyways, this is the start of some decision-making. I'm going to put out three stories out in succession in the next three days. Depending on the reception of each of them, I'll choose which one to work on first. I quite like all of them so I can't decide. This is "Story 2". If you see any of my stories with a story # on it's title, you know it's part of the group I'm trying to decide between. And if you couldn't tell. I'm EXTREMELY inexperienced writing romance. So, yeah, if it doesn't seem to be fleshing out well, please tell me. I honestly don't like writing outright romance, implied romance is more of my thing. So please, put your criticism down below, I can take it. Honestly, I feel sort of depressed just writing this. Brick is super depressing in the first few chapters, not going to lie. This was originally going to be a big chapter, but I split it into three chappies. Why? Who knows ;). And I know, I know. "Guns and Roses", so original. But it fit so beautifully with the story, I couldn't help it. Alright, this was a huge author's note, ciao!_


	2. Dance, Dance Until You Drop

_Okay, first off: thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thanks you! I got my first and second favorites ever! Thank you **Ms. RoseGold** and **Ash141** for the favorites! I've never had anyone favorite my work ever. It means so much to me. Somebody looked at my story, said "this is pretty good", and pressed that button. I was literally about to cry when I logged in and saw that. Thank you. It inspired me to hurry up and finish this chapter. Now, this chapter is definitely pushing that teen rating of mine and I'm pretty nervous about this. This is the first time I'm integrating a song into one of my stories and so I spent quite a bit of time just making sure the flow of the song matched the story. "Wild Ones" works best when you're listening to it in real time while reading my story. I tried to make the "..." as vague as possible just so I can keep this rating. Oh, and Bloss might seem OCC in this story but this Blossom is actually based on the "Who Cut the Cheese" Blossom by Shiloh. So funny! And considering that I classified this story as a comedic drama, Blossom needs to do it justice. **By the way, here's a hint: if the events here make no sense...it's because they don't ;)**. Ah, so many long author's notes._

* * *

He didn't know how the Senora convinced him that this was a good idea. People mauling each other on the dance floor, the ground slick with sweat, blood, and booze – what was so appealing about a place like this? He cautiously stepped over a _busy_ couple on the floor. Seriously, were these people savages? And the music – don't let him get _started_ on the loud, ear-piercing shrieking they called " _music_ ".

He internally snorted at his own disgust. _What did you expect?_ In retrospect, this place was sweet heaven compared to the rest of the world. Distracted by his own stupidity, he ran into another _busy_ couple. At least this time they were standing upright. The female shot him a glare worthy of killing while her partner was occupied with – _whatever_ they were touching. That's when he realized they were both girls. The glaring one was scantily clad and probably the hooker. No wonder she looked so angry; he was threatening her job. He floated away. _Definitely for the best._

He sighed. No enjoyment was going to be taken from this experience. He honestly didn't know why he let Senora push him into this. She tried to "immerse him in youth" every night he'd showed up but honestly; he always just slipped out the second she wasn't looking. He should just go. Maybe Boom had some leftover turkey waiting for him…

His attention was perked when another song came on. It sounded fairly well-made. Definitely part of a different era. The start of a piano…man, it's been a while since he'd heard a piano.

 _Hey, I heard you were a wild one…ooh._

He closed his eyes for a moment, just to immerse in the interesting melody.

 _If I took you home, it'd be a home run._

 _Show me how you'll do._

At that, the music changed to something far racier and get-your-blood-moving. He felt his hand move to the beat, his head bobbing with the swell of the music. _Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to "immerse in youth" for just a little bit. Better than Boomer's cold turkey._

 _I want to shut down the club, with you._

 _Hey I heard you like the wild ones (wild ones, wild ones) ooh_

The music's crest and drop made his eyes pop open. And he _danced_.

 _I like crazy, foolish, stupid_

 _Party going wild, fist pumping_

 _Music, I might lose it_

 _Blast to the roof, that how we do'z it (do'z it do'z it)_

He was one with the crowd and the bodies.

 _I don't care the night, she don't care we like_

 _Almost dared the right five_

 _Ready to get live, ain't no surprise_

 _Take me so high, jump and don't stop_

 _Surfing the crowd ooh_

He moved with the percussion, just like he used to with his mother.

 _Said I gotta be the man_

 _When they heading my van, mic check one two_

 _Shut them down in the club while the playboy does it, and y'all get lose lose_

 _Out the bottle, we all get bent and again tomorrow_

 _Gotta break loose cause that's the motto_

 _Club shuts down, a hundred super models_

A flash of red. _What?_

 _Hey I heard you were a wild one ooh_

He lost the beat.

 _If I took you home, it'd be a home run_

 _What was that splash of red he saw just now?_

 _Show me how you do_

He now stopped completely. What was that shimmering snatch of scarlet he saw? He was hooked, for no legible reason.

 _I wanna shut down the club, with you_

He saw it again, closer. The swell of bodies blocked it once more.

 _Hey I heard you like the wild ones (wild ones, wild ones) ooh_

He moved the crowd, fought against the current. _Mom?_

 _Party rocker, foot-show stopper, more shampoo_

 _Number one, club popper_

 _Got a hangover like too much vodka_

 _Can't see me with ten binoculars, so cool_

Could he dare to hope?

 _No doubt by the end of the night_

 _Got the clothes coming off til I make that move_

 _Somehow, someway, gotta raise the roof, roof_

He pushed a threesome away. _Mom, mom, I'm coming._

 _All black shades when the sun come through_

 _ **You're delirious,**_ his mind insisted.

 _Oh, it's on like everything goes, round up baby til the freaky show_

 _ **She's dying on that same damn couch you grew up on. Stop it!**_

 _What happens to that body, it's a private show_

He ignored the nagging feeling in his so-called brilliant mind.

 _Stays right here, private show_

Away went the final person.

 _I like em untamed, don't tell me hide pain_

 _Tolerance, bottoms up with the champagne_

 _My life, coming harder when we hit fame_

 _Do you busy with the bail, we get insane_

He dropped to his knees in grief. There was something severely wrong with him. There was no one. Nothing.

 _Hey I heard you were a wild one ooh_

"Hey, you mind if I join you?"

 _If I took you home, it'd be a home run_

The music slowly buzzed into the background noise as he looked up.

 _Show me how you do_

Twinkling pink eyes and beautiful auburn hair. "You look a little lonely, you won't mind if I join you, right?"

 _I want to shut down the club, with you_

 _It must be the alcohol,_ he thought.

 _Hey I heard you like the wild ones (wild ones, wild ones) ooh_

"I'll take that as a yes," soft pink lips met his.

 _I am a wild one, break me in_

It was definitely the booze. The world started to spin and blur.

 _Saddle me up and lets begin_

The kiss grew deeper; they started sinking onto the floor.

 _I am a wild one, tame me now_

 _ **The booze, it's the booze.**_

 _Running with wolves and I'm on the prowl_

 _ **To hell with the booze.**_

 _Show you another side of me_

He found his breath. _He_ started pressing against _her_.

 _A side you would never thought you would see_

 _See, Senora? I_ _ **am**_ _enjoying my youth._ He thought aggressively.

 _Tear up that body dominate you til you had 'nough_

She smiled against his lips.

 _I hear you like the wild stuff_

"Finally," she breathed and the world exploded.

 _Hey I heard you were a wild one ooh_

Colors. Sparks.

 _If I took you home, it'd be a home run_

Staggering. Falling.

 _Show me how you'll do_

Tumbling. Fumbling.

 _I want to shut down the club, with you_

Cherry red. So much red.

 _Hey I heard you like the wild ones (wild ones wild ones) ooh_

Moans. Screams.

 _I am a wild one break me in_

A knife.

 _Saddle me up and let's begin_

The world swirled.

 _I am a wild one tame me now_

A faint smile on a porcelain face.

 _Running with wolves and I'm on the prowl_

"Thanks."

And his world turned dark.


	3. Merda

_Hello! Oh. My. Gosh. First things are first. Thank you guys so much for supporting this story! I never expected so much support in so little time. Thank you to the following for favoriting my story: **Don't Mind Me I Am A Nobody** and **Goddess Cure Mystic**. Everyone, especially you silent readers, is so awesome, thank you. And if you didn't notice, I have a new cover art for this story! It actually inspired this whole story believe it or not. I found it by chance on YouTube in the awesome Blossom x Brick video "Pina Colada Boy" (the song that inspired this) and it was made by a crazy talented person on Pinterest (I found that out by relentlessly scouring the internet for this picture. I unfortunately don't know who it was but...all credit to them for the picture. That reminds me, I don't think I've done a disclaimer yet. I don't own PPG (WHHHHHYYYYYY?). But I own...this...for whatever it's worth ^^. Oh, and I'll be updating every Friday from now on. At least, that's my new year's resolution...psh. Originally this was going to be a SUPER FRICKING LONG chapter but I divvied it up to three. Again. Imagine that chapters 1-5 was all one chapter and you'll see why I split it up. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, I certainly enjoy seeing feedback on my story. Ciao! _

* * *

_Two weeks prior_

"Order! Order! Please, everyone, please just sit down!" The desperate blonde man yelled futilely into a microphone, trying fruitlessly to dampen the roar of the rowdy crowd below. The large underground auditorium was filled with overly macho, testosterone-filled males seeking to prove their manliness to the family…at least, that's what Blossom thought. She sat bored out of her mind in the stage box overlooking the entire Greek-styled auditorium, her gaze occasionally flickering over to the pale, middle-aged man desperately searching for order in the chaotic atmosphere that occupied the same stage box as she. She held only pity for the handsome blonde man. _It must be tough for a first generation. They have no reputation, ammunition, or money…and thus, no power._ She felt sorry for the rumpled blonde. Maybe in a different era, his family would have been artists and musicians, models and actors… But in this day and age, they were just a family struggling to keep up with the Joneses. She sighed in resignation. There was no way he would settle a crowd of this magnitude. She stood up and placed a hand on the unfortunate middle-aged man's shoulder.

"It's okay, Adams. I'll take it from here." She said with a kind smile. He averted his eyes to the ground, a hand running down his unshaven face. She caught a muffled _Andrew will kill me for this_. That particular statement strengthened her resolve to fix this crowd's obnoxious behavior. She _loved_ to piss Andrew off.

"Alright, Adams, consider it done. Ciao!" She swung off the balcony with a giddy grin. She barely caught sight of Adams' panicked expression before she started seeing the stone seating area full of… _shit, the Ricci family._ The dark-haired family snapped to attention when the flying redhead started appearing in their peripheral. They reacted almost immediately.

"Damnit, Blossom," a snarling raven-haired woman started, "do you always have to pull stunts like this? _Levati dai coglioni._ " A string of Italian curses streamed from the family's foul mouth as they pushed through the crowd. A small Cheshire smile appeared on Blossom's face. _Aw, they still love me._

She wasted no time turning her free-fall into a soft landing on the audiences' rail, jumping off of it again in smooth succession, flipping in the air, _maybe_ for dramatic effect, and landed gracefully in the middle of the auditorium. The whole audience was silent. _Keep it short and dramatic_ , thought Blossom. _Just like dad says; short and dramatic_.

"Hello, everyone. Glad you could make it. Now," her lips twisted into a deceptively honey-coated smile as she drew her gun from the hidden compartment attached to her thigh, "please shut up." She pointed the pistol at the ceiling and cocked the hammer. "Or…" The boom and crack of the small firearm shook the auditorium.

"Have I made the situation clear enough for you?" The silence didn't worry her. Italians would _hardly_ be scared off by something like this for very long.

With that statement, life was breathed back into the rambunctious Italians surrounding her. Grumbles of "damn redheads", " _Vai a fare i pompini col culo_ ", and similar sentiments echoed across the large dome but the huge crowd indeed settled down from their former "discussions". Her complacent smile said it all. But a particularly aggressive statement caused the redhead to whirl around in a less-than-graceful way.

Ugh. The Colombo family. It was _always_ them. She gritted her teeth subtly and resisted a growl. _Whoa, calm down girl, shove it. Murdering them would be a lot less satisfactory if you let them get under your skin first. Breath, keep it short and dramatic._ The twin father-and-son duo sat "innocently" next to each other, one mouth twisted up in a satisfied grin and the other pressed into a hard, aggressive line. The smiling son turned his smartass grin up a level when he saw Blossom's level gaze fall upon him.

" _Vaffanculo a chi t'è morto_." His sardonic grin only heightened his death with his continued persistence to provoke her.

Her lips twisted into a sweet smile. A very dangerous sweet smile. "I _would_ go screw my dead ancestors but it seems that you've beaten me to the punch." Loud whoops and guffaws were heard echoing the auditorium with her clever sentiment. The dark-haired young man turned red as she moved her way back to her box seating. Just as Italian cursing was an art in of itself, rebutting them was a one-of-a-kind skill.

Just as she reached the stands, the raven-haired beauty she had the privilege of calling a friend rushed up to her and smacked her hardily on the shoulder. "Ah, way to rip him a new one, Red," she said with a less-than-pure-of-reason grin. But her eyes slanted as her smile slid off her face. She lifted her fist and _really_ punched her. And when a Ricci _really_ punched, you felt it.

"Why the _fuck_ would you _jump_ from a fucking _box seat_!?" Her punctuated words grew louder as her anger grew larger.

"Hey, hey. First off, language, Buttercup. Two, why did you punch me so hard?" Blossom massaged her _extremely painful_ wound and winced. Buttercup just stared at her disbelievingly. Her fucking _crazy bitch_ of a best friend just jumped from a fucking _seventy-five foot up box seat_. How the _hell_ was she supposed to react?

Blossom didn't miss her friend's incredulous face as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. "Well, it wasn't a very _big_ fall. You're just too protective, BC, too loyal."

The brunette just threw her hands in the air. Good god, there was a _reason_ why she was slightly protective of the red head. "The fucking boss's daughter should not be jumping off of the fucking roof. We Riccis are fucking _bred_ to protect you. How the hell was I supposed to react?"

Her aggravation was just lazily waved off with the redhead's hand as she continued on her way up the stands to the box seat. _Here. Here's the perfect spot._

"Eh, don't worry about me, I'm a big girl. Here. You Riccis are bred to help my family, right? Help me now, if you please." Her seemingly callous response was due to the never ending arguments she had with every one of the Riccis sometime or another. They were a persistent family; almost too good at their job. Buttercup was used to Blossom ignoring her warnings. She was right. She _was_ a big girl. It was time to treat her like one. The brunette just rolled her eyes, interlocked her hands and kneeled down.

"Fine, but this is the last time I throw you." Blossom's wild grin said all as she clambered onto her friend's linked hands.

"Up, up, and away," Blossom teased. Her only response was a grunt and suddenly she was up in the air. _Yes, this is perfect._ Her pink calculating eyes saw the quickly-approaching side of the box seating. Her hand shot out in perfect tandem with the flawlessly calculated distance between her and the box. Her hand met the warm wood railing and she gracefully flung her body over the railing. _Ah, perfect._ She loved it when things went perfectly.

Her landing was met with long, slow clapping. She smiled and then frowned just as quickly. _That's not right. Adams is too nervous to be sarcastically clapping my "performance"._ She looked up. Shit. It was Andrew.

His warm brown eyes were eclipsed by haunted shadows and his usually grinning mouth was twisted up in displeasure. His usually vibrant red hair was dulled. Even his perpetually groomed soul patch was looking a little…rumpled. The young, handsome man that she usually associated with Andrew was decidedly unbecoming today. _This_ was the fearsome Andrew, aka the Crimson Massacre.

"So...you've become a roof-jumper, eh?"

"Dad, please, like you did any better in your heyday." Also known as…her dad.

His warm brown eyes lit up in amusement at her jab. "Well, I didn't hate it. Besides, when was my heyday ever over? Last time I checked, I was a handsome young man winning hearts and jumping off of roofs daily."

She grinned, a twin to his own. Oh, he knew her so well. She opened her mouth to rebuttal his statement, it being along the lines of "you're old". It was _going_ to be much more sophisticated than that, if not just as childish, of course, if he didn't raise a hand to stop her.

The flicker of amusement that was previously shining in his eyes disappeared as he held her gaze seriously. "As much as I would love to banter with you all day, my dear daughter, I have a rather unfortunate pressing matter I must discuss with the rest of the Commission."

She stiffened into a much more boss's-daughter type posture. As was expected of her. She dipped her head respectfully and tilted her head in formal agreement. "I will agree to those terms, dear father. But you own me a drink and leadership in the next special op if I let this go without a fight."

His eyes flickered slightly in flashing mirth before disappearing back into his mob-boss façade. "Very well, dear daughter. Now sit down before the rest of the Commission think that we're going to waste their time for an hour because of our all-important banter again. Sit and say no more."

She sat down by his side on her chair she had previously occupied before the whole jumping business without hesitation. She repressed a self-satisfied smile. She trusted her father with her life and he with his. If he said that she was going to lead the next special op, she was going to lead. Not that she didn't often lead, but a surefire op under her belt couldn't hurt.

The tense blonde man extracted himself from the shadows, hurriedly excusing his disturbance, and went to the previously abandoned microphone and leaned in nervously. The sweat on his brow shone as he began to address the room full of gangsters.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen of the Commission. We are all gathered here today at the request of our illustrious boss. Apologies for the emergency calling but the news is very –"

Incoherent shouting from the crowd interrupted poor Adams as he broke into another sweat, his eyes frantically switching between her father and the origin of the shouting. Her father's eyes peeked curiously as the noise grew louder and clearer.

"- my wife, my children, they're all gone. All gone!" The gasping and sobbing were heightened with a note of panic in the man's voice. As was the fact that the stumbling man was drunk. Blossom stood up cautiously and took careful note of the scene. The man was from the Azzoparti family. _What is he doing?_ She wondered quietly as she watched the scene unfold.

"Me mama and me Antonio all gone! They've been disappearing, you know! They've been going, going, and going, one and one and one at a time. Only me and me boys are left." He cried desperately, clawing his way through the crowd, trying to reach the box for some reason. _He must have come to the meeting late because of his drinking. But why would he stumble in like this? In the middle of a Commission meeting, no less._ She scanned the room quickly. There were no Azzoparti family representatives. Something was terribly wrong. She had every family, every face, memorized, both for her safety and for their trust and now a whole family was missing.

"You're mad!" Someone shouted from the stands. The sentiment echoed throughout the room.

"I'm not mad, I'm not mad. I-I j-just-" He started hiccupping and his eyes rolled back into his head. He collapsed in a crumpled heap.

"Adams," Andrew said quietly in a dangerous, slicing whisper, "set to removing that man from the premises immediately. If a drunk, clearly not right in the head, man can get into the meeting, I want extra security instated this instant. Or else G.O.O.D. will be onto us before we can blink."

Well, shit.

Blossom definitely didn't want the Government's General Organized Operations: Day to drop by for a visit. The mafia-specialized branch of security tended to not sit well with _any_ mobster, after all. At least it was too early for G.O.O.N. to be sending out any agents; those cloak-and-dagger types were far more…irritating to deal with than those self-righteous assholes that were the Daytime crew. The high-strung blonde squeaked and scrambled out of the back door of the seating area. Blossom plunked into her seat again, with far less grace than the first time. She glanced over at her ashen-faced father. Oh, this was _so_ not good. A breach in security was _never_ good in the mafia's vocabulary. It had been a long time since the incredibly embarrassing Apalachin busting of 1957, but the mafia hadn't forgotten their mistake. And here was a meeting between the most powerful families in North America, from the Colombos to the Riccis. Being caught here was not an option.

Her chaotic thoughts came to a standstill when she noticed her father stand up. She froze. The Crimson Massacre _never_ stood up. Not for a bomb, not for a security breach and he probably wouldn't for her wedding. If she lived long enough to have one, that is.

He approached the mic and the whole room fell silent at his presence. He drew in a deep breath, "I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. We are under risk of exposure. But do not fear, I shall see to all of your safety and you all _will_ come out of this meeting alive and informed. I promise." Blossom took a sharp breath. Her father's promises were resolute and unmoving.

His tired, dark eyes swept through the room. "There will be a raid in three weeks. It will be extremely important. Our international brothers have already infiltrated former-Africa and former-South America. We have already taken over the East Coast, the Midwest, former-Canada, former-Mexico, and northern parts of the West Coast, yet we have yet to take over the Southern-most of the West Coast. Why? The Government is weak. But they have recently been resorting to underhanded practices and methods of eliminating us. Their threat. If we take over the last of North America, our brothers in Eurasia will be free to wreak havoc. The Eurasians have been depending on the North American trade for as long as anyone can remember for the resources depleted on the main continent. With their last North American tie severed, we can take the world."

The room was still deadly quiet, the significance of the speech still processing. Blossom was reeling with this new update. She knew that the mafia was powerful but…the world? When had that happened? _Over the span of forty years of warring, of course,_ her mind whispered to her. No, that couldn't be right. The mafia had been split, gang wars were a frequent and violent thing back in the First and Second Criminal Wars, leading to the mafia's defeat both times but…with the new regulations and loopholes and exceptions in the lawmaking process…the mafia managed to stay in power – no, _grew_ in power. And when they finally became smart enough to stick together… Slowly, slowly they had infiltrated the black market, the legal financial world, and soon, the North American government itself, leading to the success of the Third and Fourth wars and the almost complete defeat of the government. But…the _world_.

"That's madness." Apparently, someone shared her thoughts on the matter. "There's no way – I mean, the _world_? In three weeks?" Harsh laughter disturbed the incredibly still room. Uncomfortable laughter joined in with the voice's, originating from the Colombo family's direction. She peered over the railing. The Colombo family's boss and heir, both laughing at the face of the mighty Crimson Massacre. Of course.

"Riccardo." The room was silenced once again by that three-syllable word. Her father had just used the real name of the Colombo family's boss, simultaneously silencing and humiliating the Colombo family. Real names were reserved for private, family, and definitely _not_ for speaking. Fake names in this world were traded, bartered, switched, and changed infinitely; this was not a world for real names. Real birth names were targets on your back, a threat to your family. Riccardo was too powerful for anything to happen to him but his woman and children… No, that wasn't right either. His _family_ was too powerful for anything to happen to them. But still, the possibility…

"I'm listening, O Great One," Riccardo spat angrily between clenched teeth, "What about this plan is not suicide or madness, eh?"

Andrew's calm, smooth face chilled even Blossom. "You make a very good point, Seven Steels; we _won't_ take the world in three weeks. We're just taking Vegas." Blossom blanched. The famed city of sin showed surprising resilience during the Criminal Wars. Half of North America's old towns and cities weren't half as lucky. Las Vegas, the former city of sin and now the famed city of spies. The city notorious for being… _creative_ with their agent selections and their methods of elimination. Government property – no, _the_ Government property. What was her father thinking?

"No, that's not right either. We will be taking Las Vegas in a year. An operation of that magnitude needs far more planning. The world will be in ten years. No, in three weeks we're going to initiate the start of our worldwide takeover. We'll move south. We will progress closer and closer to the heart of the Government until we can commence a complete takeover. And we will win." On that note, her father promptly turned and left the mic and left the stunned crowd and left his dumbfounded daughter. That last one wasn't quite right, though. He paused, poised at the edge of the doorway, and turned his head towards his daughter.

"Blossom, direct the evacuation. Use the tunnels. I need to go. I love you." And he disappeared. Blossom opened her mouth and closed her mouth in shock. She just sat dumbfounded, staring at the doorway. No matter how fast, how sharp, or how smart her mind was, she couldn't summon any of the right words in English. But one particular Italian word _did_ stand out in the chaos of her mind, however, and she decided that it was quite appropriate for the situation.

 _Merda._


	4. Escape? Naw, Let's Kill Something

_Hello everybody! I'm finally back! First off, a THREE WEEK LATE UPDATE. I'm seriously disappointed with myself and I'm so sorry. You guys have been amazing during my time of un-inspiration. Secondly, this was a bad chapter in all honesty. It doesn't measure up to my usual standards, I wrote it completely uninspired, and it had another half of it but, again, I was too uninspired to write more than a half-baked attempt at it... I will be combining them in my next update, though, I hope, and I still can't believe you guys are still with me even after all of my shenanigans. Especially you, silent readers! Please, feel free to comment and review, I can take it :). Anyways, a huge thank you to **CandyLuv99** , **GoofballGirl,** and **Tyrell97** so much for favoriting me! And another thanks to **Ash141, BlueSakura1999, CandyLuv99, DoNotDistract, FlyingMintBunny89, GoofballGirl,** **The Darkeon Flash** , and **Tyrell97** for following me. And as always, a HUGE thanks to **CandyLuv99** for always commenting! You always make my day :). Now on with the story!_

* * *

"Everybody, out! Through the tunnels!"

She snapped out of her crazed state of mind at the hoarse sound of the blonde man's voice. _Way to go, Adams,_ she internally cheered as she stood up calmly. _There's a reason why you and your family's not dead._ She approached the railing and swung her body on top of the rail, her back facing the outside.

"I'm coming down," she called, not looking at the ground. She let herself plunge.

 _Eh, jumping is risky and all, but not even looking before I free-fell? BC's going to kill me._

"Shit!" She vaguely heard some cussing below her before she felt a hard thump as she reached her destination.

"Are you trying to kill me? Or better yet, kill yourself? 'Cause you seem to be doing a great job at both." A sarcastic, biting voice came from above as she finally opened her eyes. Pink eyes focused onto deep forest green ones, and a smile lifted onto her face.

"My hero." She bestowed a sloppy kiss on the scowling man's cheek as she clambered out of his arms. He just snorted in response.

"More like your executer if you don't hurry your butt out of here before BC sees you –"

"There you are! Get off my boyfriend. Or better yet, _stop jumping off roofs_."

"- Too late." He gave her a sympathetic smirk then turned to his beloved.

"Hey, babe, I was just escorting Miss Blossom over here –"

"Shove it," She snarled, "Blossom, come on, we need to get you out of here," the brunette gestured towards the building chaos in the room. People were almost fighting to get to the cleverly concealed hatches on the different sides of the room. The pulsating panic of the crowd was masked by the practiced run-and-gun calm of the mafia. Barely. Blossom would rather _not_ be there when the skillfully constructed composure came crashing down. But.

"No." Her father was out there. No matter how illogical, she was not willing to allow the captain to go down with his ship. He was all she had left.

Her brunette friend disagreed, however. Her short, wild black hair shook with her calm rage as she gestured more violently towards the scene's building hysteria. "Look, I get you out of here alive or I get you out alive. Chose one right now."

The redhead shook her head slowly. The chaos was mounting and her friend seemed to finally hit the brink of exasperation. "No. I'm staying. I'm going to make sure these families get out or I'll die –" The rest of her sentence was cut short by her friend's hand shooting out and clamping her mouth.

Her steady lime green eyes held hers, fearless and ruthless. "Look, I already know how this argument's going to end. You're as stubborn as a mule when you want to be. I'll stay with you, but-BUT if anyone's going to die it's going to be _me_ , got it? So let's just hurry this up so I can get you out as soon as –"

A large hand clamped down on Buttercup's own shoulder and she whipped around, almost drop kicking the man in the crotch.

"WOAH, WOAH, THERE. Nobody's dying on my watch, okay? You two done yet or yah going to be standing here yapping all day? Let's get this over with. Whatcha want to do, Bloss?"

The unruffled redhead dusted herself off smoothly and looked at the giddy young man shift from foot to foot. He looked positively bloodthirsty. "We will just be leading this crowd out into the tunnels in a calm, organized fashion. No killing. Buttercup, take the South end, Butch, the North. I'll take the West. The East's been closed for years. Now move!"

Her whole demeanor had changed into her commander-in-chief mode. It didn't go unnoticed. Butch threw her a wicked grin and a mock salute. "Yes, Captain!" Buttercup threw _him_ a solid punch. And with deadly precision, those two zeroed into their assigned roles.

* * *

"Get your lazy butts out of here NOW!" The redhead almost smirked at her friend's overly-aggressive method of shooing the last of the stragglers out of the auditorium. Her end looked clear as well. She resisted shooting the ceiling a concerned glance. _It's been almost eight minutes. The Gov should be coming any moment now._

"Come on, Buttercup," Blossom called out, "Butch has already cleared the North side and headed into the tunnels to close it up. We have to move." She glanced around the emptied room. No sign that humans had ever encountered it. Her eyes narrowed. Where was her father?

"Alright, alright. Move first, princess. I need to make sure you're safe until the end, you know." The redhead almost scowled. Her friend knew her too well. In all honesty, she would've probably stayed behind a little longer to find her father. _Ah, well. He'll survive. Nothing kills the Crimson Massacre._ She hoped.

She gave a brief jerk of her chin in acknowledgment and looked once more at the shadowed hatch in the wall. She knew it gave way to a ladder down to the tunnels but… With one more forlorn glance at the abandoned room, she dived into the darkness. The hatch sealed shut, and probably would be for a very long time.

* * *

After shimming down the hatch, she had walked on for a couple of minutes. The wide tunnels were devoid of life, the majority of the meeting's participates most likely already heading down to the Protected Levels and heading home. _The Southern and Western tunnels will be converging soon if my memory serves me right._ The dimly lit corridor dripped in a constant rhythm, she noted. _Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop._ It must be raining, she concluded dully. She thought of other things, things other than the meeting that had gone wrong, anything other than the father that had gone missing. _He survives, he always does. This tiny incident isn't enough to keep the Crimson Massacre down._ It didn't stop the corner of her lips to tug down, though.

"Hey, Bossy Blossy. Glad to see that you're still alive."

The redhead turned to the sound of her friend's voice. "Hey, Butterbutt."

The brunette snorted. "I give two shits about you, too." She strolled up to Blossom languidly, hands in her ripped-up jean's pockets.

"Language."

"I speak English, what more do you want from me?"

"Clean English."

"You'll get that when my mother rolls over and dies."

"No fair. That woman couldn't die if the world was ending."

Buttercup rolled her eyes as she walked next to the girl. Her friend was really hurting in there, she could see it. She wasn't blind. Blossom only gave her weak-sauce banter like that if something was really wrong. Seriously, it's like she forgot that the brunette practically grew up attached to her hip.

"Hey, don't worry about your dad. G.O.O.D. is a squad made-up of the baby stuff. If your dad were to fall to anything, it would be to an atomic bomb. He's almost as hard to kill as my mother."

Blossom's head jerked up sharply at the mention of her father, pink eyes narrowed. Her eyes smoothed out into a blank, noncommittal stare almost immediately after, but there was none of the usual mischievous gleam. The pinks were troubled. Her steps sped up, clacking in a stiff manner so unlike the usual grace she held herself with. Buttercup almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Her internal war between what she wanted to bring up and what Blossom wanted to ignore tore at her. Buttercup hated indecision. Indecision was for the dead. After the struggle, she ended up taking pity on the redhead and changed the subject.

"You coming to the massacre in three weeks?"

Blossom smirked and relaxed, this topic in much safer waters. "You mean every day's not a massacre?" The dark-haired maiden laughed at her friend's biting comment as she hustled to join her in the tunnel.

"You know what I mean," said the raven-haired woman with a playful punch, "we're going to be taking over the richest side of North America. Those government idiots have always been able to hustle out of our grasp and book it to an unsecure area just in time. But now we've got them cornered. Those overfed fatties will be busting out the big guns to keep the Ricci family business out. Not that they're going to be successful." The bloodthirsty black-haired woman grinned crazily as she smacked her two fists together.

"'Overfed fatties' is a redundant phrase," The redhead chided jokingly. "Besides, this is a joint effort between our families; the Riccis aren't the only ones conducting this…'transaction'." The brunette just tossed her head uncaringly.

"Oh, whatever. So long the Riccis get a slice of that money and a gun in our hands, we'll be good." The redhead just shook her head, knowing full-well the extent of the Riccis' bloodthirstiness – with or without the money.

"Hey," the redhead's attention snapped back to her friend's voice, "your family leading the raid, right?" The dark-haired woman asked cautiously. The redhead's family was notoriously known for their secrecy and digression. A casual mention of the leaders of a raid of this scale could make them a little…tense.

Tense indeed. The mirth the redhead had displayed a second ago was, at the moment, silent and cold again. The brunette almost regretted asking – almost. A Ricci never had regrets. They did what they wanted and took the consequences like the maniacs they were. But still…angering another family…was unacceptable.

"Buttercup! Blossom! Guys, I finally found you!" A bright blonde peeked the attention of both women. They stopped, watching the blonde reveal herself from a concealed side tunnel on their left.

"Bubbles," Buttercup started, "Before you say anything, did everyone escape?"

Bubbles turned her head to her old friend. "Yep, everyone made it out. There was a big uproar at the Capital, though. Buttercup, your mother was practically destroying the Capital demanding that she see you again. Apparently, G.O.O.D. arrived to an empty crime scene. Wow, is your dad good at what he does, Bloss. And -."

"Shush," Blossom said suddenly. "You mentioned my dad. Did he…?"

The blonde nodded her head with a big smile. "Your dad made it out fine. Though, he did ask me to –"

"THERE YOU ARE!"

A loud shout disturbed the almost harmonious air as a big ball of human came bowling at the group. "What the –" Buttercup was cut off as it launched itself at her. She was knocked to the ground as the group gaped at the merciless hugging happening at their feet.

"Ugh, get off of me you big lump." Buttercup hissed as Butch nuzzled her neck affectionately. He finally looked up at her face and grinned wildly.

"I knew my girl would survive. I was maybe a _tad_ concerned when I didn't see your lovely ass anywhere when G.O.O.D. arrived but that has now been rectified."

She threw him a searing glare. "I dare you to say that one more time, _dear_. And who do you think I am? There's no way I would be _injured_ by one of those wimpy G.O.O.D. goons, let alone _die_ because of 'em."

Her glaring face didn't dent his goofy grin, however, as he stood up, pulling her along. "I know, I know. I wouldn't have proposed if you weren't such a tough cookie." She 'hmphed' as she allowed him to pull her up, softening slightly when she was in his arms. The scene was…too sweet for the bloodthirsty jade-eyed couple, Blossom decided, looking at them, unamused.

"So…you two going to nuzzle all day or what?" She said, finally breaking the decidedly private moment.

That seemed to snap the brunette out of her slight smile and she pushed the brunet off of her coldly.

"What?" he whined miserably, "Why'd yah have to do that, Bloss? We were going to –"

"Make me puke," the redhead finished, rolling her eyes. "Get a room."

He stared her down and shifted his gaze to his "loving" fiancé. "Maybe we will," he said with a mischievous smile. He grabbed his fiancé by her waist and twirled her stubborn body around. "Come on, babe, you want to do what the little lady says?" His eyes practically twinkled.

The brunette begrudgingly felt the edges of her mouth tug upwards and said slyly, "Yes, _dear_. Maybe we will." The two grabbed each other and booked it down the tunnel for the nearest exit.

The blonde looked at the disappearing couple bewilderedly. "Are they going to have sex or kill each other? I can never tell with those two anymore." The redhead mentally reviewed their dialogue and came up with a blank conclusion as well.

"No idea. Anyways, you were saying something about my father…?"

"Oh, yeah!" Bubbles exclaimed with sudden vigor. "Your father said that he needed to talk to you at…'the place where the mightiest of mocking jays rest'? I don't know what that means but-"

The blonde watched as her long-time friend and technically-family rushed off down the poorly lit tunnel. _I've been part of her family almost all of my life and I still get surprised by them,_ she mused amusedly.


	5. A Mental Struggle - WHY ME?

_Well, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't come back for this update XD. It's been five flippin' weeks! BUT it was for a really, really good purpose. Well, you guys can be the judge of that. I spent the entirety of those five weeks deeply studying the mafia and revising my plot. After seeing that you guys actually liked my half-baked attempt at writing, I decided that I would devote a crap ton of effort for you guys. I don't know if that's worth the wait for you guys but I tried my absolute best to make this story worth every minute it's taken of your life. Anyways, thank you all for the support! **AprilStar2169, MadamQuill,** and **Siah1** for the favorites and **AprilStar2169, ICantThinkofanOriginalName, MadamQuill, Siah1,** **dark-angel Luna 13** for the follows. And thank you for all of the kind and insightful comments from **AprilStar2169, ICantThinkofanOrigianlName, Siah,** and **CandyLuv99**. Seriously, you guys are scary how closely you read my plot and asked the most accurate questions. I apologize but I have a rule of thumb: never answer questions in an author note. What kind of author am I if I can't even answer your questions with my writing? So expect answers within the texts. But that doesn't mean stop asking questions! Expressing notes and theories and critiques in the reviews really develop the faces I can put on you guys so never stop! And I see how much you guys have been paying attention ;). Just a quick note: **I will be updating every other Saturday!**_ I'm sort of running out of time here so I hope you enjoy this! This chapter's not that epic but it's the second to last 'flashback' chapter so you can feel relieved that the torture's almost over XD. Have fun! _  
_

* * *

 _My father's alive and he wants to meet at my mother's grave!_ Blossom thought excitedly. She wasn't so much happy about going to her mother's resting place than she was seeing her father again. _Then again, I was absolutely ridiculous to even fret in the first place. The man's forty-eight, plenty in his prime. There's no way he would die to something as trivial as G.O.O.D._ She granted herself a tiny smile. The man was almost as un-killable as the Mrs. Ricci herself, after all. She sprinted down the tunnel, the tunnel going farther and farther down as she progressed. As she continued on, she passed all sorts of insignificant entrances that lead to irrelevant places. _One entrance. Another door. A third opening…_

She skidded to a smooth stop when she reached a particular spot; _the_ particular place. A blank stone wall. She paid no heed to the seemingly solidity of it and shot her hand out to meet the middle of the wall. The tremendous amount of force she sent into the wall activated a small, indistinct light beam scanning her eye. She wouldn't have noticed it if she didn't know it was there. But she did so…

"I am a made-man," _Despite the sexism that exists in the promise,_ she thought offhandedly, as she always did, as she made her oath, "And my promise is this: _posso bruciare come un santo in un inferno se tradisco la mia famiglia_." She finished confidently. The door let out a small 'click' as it moved back, recognizing both her hand-print and her voice, sliding to the right, and opening into a room-sized chamber. She waltzed into the chamber, not sparing the keypad to her left a glance before she repeated the Italian phrase again. _Hm, 'may I burn like a saint in hell if I betray my family' is a bit cheesy, isn't it? It's too religious, exactly what the_ old _mafia would do… I should talk to dad about that,_ she mused as the chamber resealed itself and started moving down. _Then again, those words protect me from a horrible death every time I enter this rigged chamber, so… Oh, the memories._

The steady 'chug' that followed her descent suddenly stopped, signaling her arrival. "Oh goodie," she couldn't help but grumble to herself, "now I join the rest of idiot kind." The wall that she faced, the room's back wall, opened, almost politely. Blossom allowed herself a small grimace at the sudden change of light. The dimly lit, almost dank, chamber contrasted heavily with the bright white light coming from the outside. She took a small glance at the polished marble floors and the brilliant white walls and columns of the station. _Must the damn Colombos have to be so goddamn gaudy all the time?_

Once she got past the ungodly amount of glaring light, she could finally see the sleek white machine forty feet in front of her, rushing past at the speed of sound. She stepped out of the box, the wall sealing shut behind her once her human temperature could no longer be detected. She looked around the large station, stretching out for at least another one hundred and thirty feet on either side of her. She could see more people exit similar rooms like hers – or more importantly, who _wasn't_ exiting the Trams.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Miss High-and-Mighty. It's not often that a Genovese joins us on the Colombo Terminal."

Ugh, she knew that slimy voice anywhere. "Oh, _andare dare un pompino con il culo_ , Jenovah."

"Oh, touchy touchy, I see, Miss Blossom. I don't see why since, if I remember correctly, it was _your_ father who insulted my family." His familiar smart-ass grin slide off his face when he remembered the insult to his family. His dark eyes darkened further as he took in the loudmouth big-shot heir in front of him. The very sight of her made his blood boil! Especially since the incident two weeks ago… Oh! If only she wasn't the Genovese boss's daughter! Wait 'til he got his hands on her!

She sniffed in that same damn aloof manner he hated so much. "Tch, your father didn't want to listen to logic so my father simply had to make him. It's not my fault your father is…averse to logic."

A vein popped at her jab, making him even more furious than he already was. "Did you just call my father stupid?" Jenovah Colombo was many things: rich, angry, and insecure, but he was _not_ stupid. He knew an attempt at provocation when he saw one. Oh, but this time, he couldn't help but take the bait.

Blossom saw the second he took the bait. The man was many things: bratty, bitter, and cowardly, but he was no fool. _I must be really getting to him today_. "Hm, if you say so." She saw his teeth gnash together.

She waltzed away, seeing the smooth Transrapid train slow to a stop, hovering above the magnetic rails complacently.

"Wait, come back here!" His hoarse voice shook as he shouted for her to stop, "Stop! You have to answer to your insult!"

"Ciao," she called back without looking back as she boarded the Tran. His shouting was cut off as the Tran's doors closed with a finality that made her collapse exhaustedly onto the comfortable seating.

She knew it. She _knew_ how dangerous insulting another family was. The Mafia's almost thirty years of united peace still came with the same family divides that lead to their demise in the first two wars. She – she was stressed out, okay? Jenovah was an asshole, the Government came way too close for comfort, and she still needed to see with her own two eyes if her father was okay. Overall, it had been an _extremely_ bad day for her. Not that she would admit it. She was the leader, the main boss's daughter; people put her on a pedestal and expected her to lead with elegance and grace every moment of the day. She _couldn't_ admit that she would even be _capable_ of having a bad day. That would make her human.

She warily looked around the Tran. It was startlingly empty. _Everyone must be on other trains, going home already_. She felt tired; she wanted to be home like the rest of the Commission representatives. The day had taken its toll.

She did some quick and simple math. Speed of sound divided by 4475263.8 meters…gah, why did former-Washington state have to be so far away from former-New York? _That's what I get for choosing to host the Commission meeting in the Colombo's territory in an attempt to patch up relations… Not that I helped any…_ She closed her eyes and leaned back into the comfy cushions, prepping for the upcoming long, four hour ride.

* * *

"We have arrived to the Main Genovese Terminal. Please exit safely and take all arms off of the Transrapid train. The Terminal is not liable for any injuries suffered from fellow passengers. Thank you for your time and have a nice day."

Blossom blinked slowly as she looked blearily at her watch. 6:00 o'clock p.m. Her arm impulsively shot to her head and was alarmed to find nothing but loose hair. _Oh, yeah, that's right; I left my lucky hat at home_. She sighed inaudibly. Maybe that's why everything seemed to be going wrong today…

Ah well, she didn't want to pretend that she was fine but she dragged a smile onto her face anyway and stood up. She exited the Tran and was met with the most beautiful sight in the world: the Capital. _Home, sweet, home_ , she thought wryly, a small, genuine smile settling on her face as a small bit of happiness fluttered in her chest at the sight of her home. She reveled in its beauty for a moment.

The Tran-station was positioned on one of the higher ledges of the underground city. No, that description wasn't really right. The word 'underground' was far too cramped and dim to describe the awesome behemoth of a city. The vibrant lights shone merrily as the city stretched on for hundreds of miles, the giant city designed with the Mafia's Italian roots in mind. The great expanse dipped lower and lower into a single point directly in the middle of the city, the pride and joy of the Mafia: the Intelligence Center.

The giant, spiraling black building, like a warped needle from afar but really a humongous multi-level building up close, connected the sky of their world with the bottom, becoming the very lifeblood of the Mafia. The Intel connected the Capital with the rest of the Mafia cities, with all of the data they held, and all of the spies they employed. It was magnificent. And dangerous if in the wrong hands but…what better hands than the Mafia's?

Blossom gave a sigh of bliss looking upon the magnificence of the city. She gave a nod to her ancestors' forethought. The Genovese had always been an intelligent breed, if the city wasn't enough proof already. There _was_ a reason why they were the most powerful family of the Five, after all. What was impressive still was how her ancestors managed to build such a powerful city and complex concoction of tunnels and technology within only the thirty-two-year span between the Second and Third Criminal Wars. _It was finished twenty-two years ago yet it still screams modern 23rd century. It impresses me every time._

She, however, couldn't stay for long. She had a responsibility. No matter how much she wanted to just curl up in her soft bed and have Lisette brush her hair… She signed forlornly. Lisette would tell her that her responsibility was to her family first, the Mafia second and only then was she allowed to relax… Damn mother figures, who needed them anyways? She grinned tiredly. _Lisette would yell at me if I said that. No need to then._

She mechanically started walking down a stone path that circled the entire perimeter of the city. Eventually the path would conjoin with the intricate system of roads and canals in the massive city but Blossom was not aiming for the inner-city.

It wasn't long before she reached the Lift. Walking the entire perimeter would have taken at least a day. Taking the Lift, however… The Conveyor Lift was basically just simple system of open-air boxes hanging on transposal tracks that dropped you off anywhere on the perimeter. A far faster method of transportation, for sure, than walking, but it was a real pain to use if you needed to get anywhere but the outermost buildings or the catacombs, but it did its job well enough. She boarded the Lift and activated the control panel imprinted on the side of the open box. She typed in her coordinates and the Lift started up with renewed life. The Lift box's path of tracks re-coordinated itself towards her destination and began moving.

She walked slowly towards the edge of the moving box, reaching the railing before the Lift actually started its motion. She didn't bother looking up at the moving, living "ceiling" above her and the Lift, constantly re-coordinating and shifting to the wishes and wills of its passengers. The "roof" of the city was almost as grand and complex as the city itself. The belly of its mechanics was constantly cleaned, repaired, and sustained to prevent malfunctions. _The Mafia has become more of a civilization than an underground organized crime community,_ Blossom mused. _Employing wise guys with more skills than just following orders, maintaining a capital, annexing other countries… I guess taking over the world was just the next logical step._

She stood straighter, the thought bothering her. All her life – hell, all of the Mafia's _existence_ revolved around _money_. The entirety of the mafia existed to earn _money_. They had stopped just aiming for money sometime in her childhood but when would it stop? Why did it stop? They had essentially created a society, a social contract, _anything_ to keep themselves from falling apart again but – did they lose their purpose by doing so? She had a sudden, gripping desire to argue with her father, question his decision.

 _The world_. Many countries and many individuals, in many ways and times, had tried to take over the world. Hitler, Napoleon, and, the most recently, Sua Hong. Yet all failed. They had all _failed_. There was a _reason_ why one did not try to _take over the world_. A frown crossed her face. She wasn't just happy to see him anymore – she was _pissed_.

Why didn't he tell _her_ , his daughter, his under-boss, his only family, about his plans to _take over the world!?_ The whole thing was bullshit – had to be. He would have told her any solid plans he had had. He called her to her mother's grave to explain to her his fraud, his plan to trick the Commission into agreeing to another social contract, or something…right?

But…he never gave her a straight answer as to why the Mafia switched to societal building and reform instead of thinking of the best scheme for scamming the Government's tax dollars or something… He never explained why or how mom died or anything… It was possible that this was a just another piece of a giant puzzle, her dad loved puzzles. Well, it was hard to believe that taking over the world was anything but a giant mistake but a puzzle piece would do. She, however, was still frustrated. Why was any of this happening? What was going on?

She hated, _hated_ , not knowing things and she _hated_ things not going per. Fect. Ly. As this day dragged through, she realized exactly _how much_ she hated those things. Her razor-sharp mind pinged painfully as she hit a mental wall. Well, _now_ she knew that her dad wasn't going to be getting a warm welcome party.

The Lift blinked, indicating that her ride was over. Her heart panged painfully as she realized that she never got the chance to see the beauty of her city from the Lift. It would have been fantastic – if she had ignored the others in the air, of course. That was another strike to her father's sin list today. If she could find one more…boy, he would be screwed.

She hopped off. Thank goodness the catacombs were located near the Lift. She was itching with questions and if they weren't answered soon – well, what would happen was to be determined. But be sure…she would definitely draw inspiration from her raven-haired friend… And she already knew what – or specifically, _who_ – would be her first target.

She started walking down the stone path again, creating a mental map in her head of her desired destination.

The catacombs consisted of graves and urns sitting in hidden chambers lining the upper perimeter of the city, as there was little room left for the dead. Right? It's…been a long time since she'd last been here… Each chamber had many lower levels to each but Blossom was only interested in the lowest floor, specifically of the Genovese family's, a spot reserved only for the most powerful of ancestors.

She kept walking, passing the small entrances to other family graves. She gave a small nod of respect to each entrance. The dead were just as important to the Mafia as the living were. Only traitors and government spies were not buried with respect.

It wasn't long before she reached a simple, practical steel opening. It was beautiful in a hauntingly cold and pragmatic way. Of course, it was her family's. Despite a warm light throwing warmth on the dark interior, Blossom couldn't help but feel a shivering chill when she stepped inside.

She couldn't decide whether she was angry at her dad or grateful; both for his escape and his decision to end her family's tradition of estrangement… The indifferent and cold atmosphere here was only a fraction of her family's old lack of familial bonds. The atmosphere seemed to suggest that the dead were buried here, with great respect, yes, but with no love. Nothing. Brothers laid down their dead sisters here without a blink. It was…disturbing.

Even to Blossom. She was a Genovese through and through but she was raised with her father's laughing and teasing personality and awkward warmth. She wasn't bothered by the dead so much the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Nonetheless, she passed by her ancestors' urns and tombs, going all the way to the back elevator. The first floor wasn't very big, only big enough to hold a dozen or so extremely old-fashioned graves, the first users of the great catacombs. She glided into the elevator, grateful for the escape from the chill and inputted the level she desired. She knew she was lucky; only a few families, the most powerful ones, could grant enough space for an elevator, the rest had stairs.

In the olden days, you could become hopelessly lost in the maze of the dead, before the ancestors had the idea to separate it by family and expand downward and underneath the underground city. But, as it is for so many societies, only the most powerful received luxuries.

She mentally counted the seconds and their meanings as the elevator descended. She ticked off six floors, knowing that if she had stopped at any other floor, she would have been greeted by a sprawling labyrinth of graves, full of long-past friends, relatives near and far, and empty spaces waiting for an occupant. The negative seventh floor: her mother's.

* * *

These graves were different from the rest. Large chambers rested, nestled together with only a few small, snaking trails of separation. She ignored the filled chambers in the front, most likely holding her maternal grandmother and grandfather and a dozen of other important relatives who never gave a damn about her and her outsider father until they were dead and he was handed the title of 'Boss'.

She passed a few rows before she reached the very heart of the graves. Her hand rested on the thick stone slab in front of _the_ chamber. She knew that whatever happened next would be very important.


	6. Taking the World and Other Daily Chores

_Okay, this is embarrassing… I always promise I'll update next Saturday, next Friday, next Sunday. A month later, I apologize to you guys…again… Well, I apologize once more, but this time, I say…: that I will update when I can! I always aim for the next Saturday but it usually doesn't go along as planned… Good news? Exams will be over in two weeks and then…_ _ **SUMMER!**_ _*weird evil cackle-thing with sobs of relief occasionally dotting the failing cackle* Thank the math gods… I'll be able to produce better and quicker content for you guys. Just don't forget to put your complaints down in the comments so I can fix my god-awful crap of a story ;). And as always, I_ must _thank you beautiful people who always show such support:_ _ **GoofballGirl, ICantThinkofanOriginalName, CandyLuv99**_ _, and_ _ **Princess of Flames**_ _for the reviews encouraging reviews (they always make my day :D). And_ _ **The UltimateFanGirl234**_ _and_ _ **Don't Mind Me I Am A Nobody**_ _for the follows. What you guys do to show your support of me really touches me and I could thank you every day and it still wouldn't be enough. Well, enough of that, time to get on to the story! (Yay! Flashback is **over** this chapter!)  
_

* * *

Blossom let out a terse breath. She retracted her hand from the stone slab and automatically began fiddling with her watch as she started thinking.

 _What was the damn password, again?_

Pausing her fiddling, Blossom reached out towards the stone slab once more, waving her hand in front of its center. The illusion dissipated at her signal, revealing a hidden, blinking keypad, patiently waiting for a pass-code.

She gritted her teeth. _Oh, boy. It really has been too long…_ Starting with her mother's birthday, the pink-eyed woman typed in a long series of numbers. Her parents' wedding date, _her_ birthday, the day her father became the Don of the Genovese crime family… Damnit.

She forgot what the last series of numbers were.

Staring at the innocently blinking keypad was probably the _least_ important thing she could've been doing with her time right now. Come on, she was being stopped by a keypad of all things, really? When _she_ , the under-boss of the most powerful crime family in existence, overcame hundreds – no, _thousands_ – of situations _ten times_ as tough? And now her own memory was blocking her way to answers? _**Really?**_

 _Could this day get any worse?_

She growled in frustration. That stupid, blinking light seemed to mock her and her bad day, taunting her inability to get past it. _I_ _ **HATE**_ _situations not going PERFECTLY!_

Letting out a battle cry, she slammed her hand down on the wall to the right of the keypad. The keypad suddenly blinked green and the seemingly immovable stone slab sank back and slid into the floor.

Stunned that even worked, she recoiled for a moment. Just as quickly, however, her swift mind caught up with her. She didn't waste another second, loudly marching into the now-visible chamber, the stone slab sliding shut behind her.

"What the heck was that!?" Her piercing, accusatory jab flew over to the unaffected object of her attention, a lean red-haired man calmly sitting atop a stone alcove. He took another long, slow inhale of his cigarette. A whole, slightly-used pack of them laid beside him. He spoke.

"You forgot the fact that there are hidden cameras outside," he began, waving with his free hand towards the general area of her entrance, "and that I can unlock the chamber from the inside?"

"No, not that," Blossom replied impatiently, "I'm talking about the stunt you pulled at the Commission meeting! What the heck was that, dad!? You stood – you _stood_ at a _Commission meeting_ like it was no big deal and then suddenly announced a plan to take over the world! Are you nuts!? You never told me anything about taking over the –"

She was silenced by her father's painstakingly slow extinguishment of the cigarette. She made a face of disgust. The Mafia _dealt_ drugs – didn't _use_ them. Slipping another cigarette out of the pack, he lit it, and for the first time in the exchange, faced his daughter.

"Have I ever told you about your mother?" His usually rich voice was marred by the rough, gravelly tone that told her he had been smoking in the chamber for a while now. Oh, she could see the empty packet partially hidden by his side now.

Her eyebrows drew together, disguising her original impulse to raise them. Innocent bewilderment was far more diplomatic than condescending dubiety, he had always taught her. Again, didn't help when her smart mouth got the better of her.

"My mother? What does _that_ have anything to do with what we're talking about?"

She was genuinely perplexed by his statement. What the _hell_ did her mother have to do with anything?

Her father, however, didn't seem to want to further elaborate his meaning, bringing back her original frustration.

" _Dad. Explain_. What is all this? Why didn't you tell me anything?" Another suspicious and horrifying thought occurred to her. "What on earth was Bubbles doing so nearby at the time of the meeting? The Capital is _four hours away._ Did you _plan_ this? _Dad_ –"

"First, your mother." His voice was firm, unyielding. There would be no discussion. _He seems to be interrupting me a whole lot today,_ her inner voice grumbled. She absolutely hated it. They had had, up until this point, an open and honest relationship; since when did her dad hide important shit from her or _not_ encouraged reasonable, intelligent discussion?

With pained eyes, she watched her father take another hit. _He seems to be doing that a lot lately…_ Well… he'd been smoking for more than half her life, when she thought about it. _Since mom died…_

"Do you remember the nickname I always gave her? It drove her off the wall." He gave a shaky laugh at that. _Something's seriously wrong here…_ What hint did he _think_ he gave her?

"Uh, yeah. 'Mockingjay'. After the iconic bird from some ancient story meaning 'unreal', 'larger than life', or 'mockery/sham'. Right?"

"Yup," he grinned in amusement, "you got it. She was truly larger than life. And had the grandest mask to boot."

"Mask?"

"She gave the world a mask – a version of herself carefully crafted for her protection." His duller-than-normal eyes softened when looking at his beautiful, all-grown-up daughter. "You two are a lot more alike than you think."

Blossom stiffened. "How so?"

His eyes softened further and spoke in a gentle whisper. "Amanda, you don't need to try so hard to be my daughter. I don't need to know that you can banter, that you are more laid back than you truly are, that you are witty and bold, I _know_ you're my daughter. I can see through that mask you give the world. I _am_ still your father, after all. I see you work so hard to uphold a witty, endlessly crazy self for my benefit and a powerful, graceful being for your Mafia image."

She gnashed her teeth together. "Where is this coming from? You still haven't answered anything, dad."

But he wasn't listening. His eyes looked lost in another world. "From the second I knew you were going to be born, I wanted the world for you. I wanted to shield you from the violence I faced growing up, and I wanted to keep you away from the uncaring environment of the Genovese family. But I never intended for you to shun an entire half of yourself. All those stories I told you about them was to show you your mother's side of the family, not push you away from them, not make you resent any similarities you have with them."

"Dad." She had heard enough. She had come here for answers, not a fucking sermon about her ignorant relatives. "Just tell me what you called me here to say." It had been a long time since Blossom was this pissed. It had been a long time since she'd had such an awful day… not since her mother's death… And this day was certainly taking a _long time_.

"It saddens me that you're actively trying reject the Gallo side of your family. They're haughty, nasty, and cold people under the worst conditions but I taught you about them because you share their blood and can learn from their mistakes –"

"ENOUGH," she found herself screaming, " _I_ am not a Gallo. Sure, I may share their blood. Sure, I may be the under-boss of _their_ crime family. _Sure_ , my mother is buried among them. But I. AM. A. _**BURN**_."

She gasped for breath as she stared her completely alert father dead in the eye. "My name is Amanda fucking _Burn_."

The silence was deafening. Losing her cool like this… let alone at her _father_ …

She just wanted to lay down on the ground and cry. Let the rest of the horrid day go to shit without her. Just sobbing her heart out, with Lisette or her dad brushing her long mane…

He cleared his throat, his eyes finally bright and clear. "Language." She blinked. And started to laugh, small, hiccuping sobs dotting her insane giggles.

The expression on his face was positively mournful. "I'm so sorry, Am. I don't know what came over me…" He fingered his cigarette pack gently, when he suddenly paused, hesitating, then ultimately deciding to tuck it away. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwing up in distress. "Look, I… I'm being an insensitive, high bastard. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For more than you know. The reason why… the reason why I started with your mother…" he choked, breaking down in front of his daughter like he'd only ever done once before, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. If only your mother and I had worked harder, if only we had planned for the future instead of thinking only of our happiness."

Without realizing it, both father and daughter had sunk to the floor, with a distance of only a few meters separating their grief. _What_ … Blossom's whirling mind slowed at her father's desperate words, staring at her bowed-over father, her tears flowing silently from her. … _is he talking about?_

He couldn't meet his daughter's gaze. He couldn't. "You are the last Genovese. The last from that bloodline. It doesn't matter what _I_ do, once you die, the Genovese bloodline is done. While the crime family would go on, the blood of the Genovese would not… And we live in a dangerous profession –"

Breaking off with a sour laugh, he rose his head and locked eyes with his daughter. Blossom searched his gaze, picking up on his implications. Her mind clicked. "There needs to be a child. Soon." She tore her gaze from his and shakily stood. "What brought this on?"

She looked towards her right, ignoring her father on the ground in front of her. The urn sat complacently on another large stone slab to the right of the alcove her father had been waiting in. "Wait, don't answer that. It's the coming invasion, isn't it? We need an insurance once taking over the world." Her dull voice cut Andrew deeper than if she had been screaming.

She turned her empty gaze back to her father. "We're really doing it, huh? Taking over the world." It wasn't a question.

"Well, it's not like we're royalty or anything. My virginity doesn't matter – only how I use it."

Andrew cringed, like every father would when talking of their daughter's virginity. "No, that –"

"And it doesn't help that I've shot down every powerful, potential Mafia-mate in proximity, does it?" She interrupted, "Don't think I haven't forgotten the mess with Jenovah Colombo two weeks ago. He's a bastard of the highest degree but I could've gotten through the marriage meeting without telling him that. And to add salt to the wound, the mess at the Commission today could further alienate our relations with the Colombo crime family. We need a child from me. The source doesn't matter, does it?"

Her cold, formal tone – her Mafia boss's daughter voice – made Andrew wince in pain. His precious daughter, his last tie to her mother – he loved her too much to hear this, to tell her this. He slowly shook his dark red hair 'no', in response to her question.

She took note of his answer and continued, a little bit more gently than she had been earlier. "Don't worry, dad. You know as much as I do that I don't believe in love. I'll find an intelligent donor." She drew closer and hugged her father, pulling him up to his knees. His arms wrapped around her, an unseen, silent tear running down his face. Until another thought occurred to her.

 _My father has always been the type to bite off more than he can chew… he went after the most powerful Mafia family's boss's daughter for god's sake… But he's never been a fool… And only the most foolish or crazy (or both) try for the world…_

"Do I have to ask _who_ suggested this mass takeover?" She pulled away from her father, her eyebrow arched. A choppy laugh confirmed her suspicions.

"It's _Him_ , isn't it?" Her unamused expression only fueled her father's mirth. He stood, an amused look in his eyes, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I know you don't like him very much but he's my consigliere. You've gotta trust his advice."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. _Ugh, love makes people so idiotic and insane… which explains why I'm helping this incredibly stupid plan…_

In far safer topics than her mother and her new, uncomfortable objective, father and daughter laughed together at her constant disapproval of the man's advisor.

"Hey," his eyes softened as he stooped his height a little to match his daughter, "I also want the world for you, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, please." He laughed and straightened, ruffling her loose hair, making her pseudo-annoyed.

"I know, I know. Too cheesy." His eyes flashed with sudden happiness. "I know what will cheer you up."

"Lisette is home?" Blossom asked hopefully, eyes filled with her previous longing to be home.

"No, she's currently out, my dear daughter, though I know how much you'd like to go home. Do you realize how long I sat in the stone alcove waiting for you? If anything, I'm more anxious than you to be home." Chuckling at his daughter's pouts, he continued, "Because of these plans to take over the world, guess what we need? A mission. A _solo_ mission."

He fought the urge to smile at the anticipated, excited grin stealing across his daughter's face.

"Yep, starting next week, you will be going to the Government's capital – _Las Vegas_." Her eyes widened. This was _big_. A few Mafia families had tried in the past to infiltrate the Government's most recent capital. Almost all failed. Only a few agents from their side could get in and that information was so classified even _she_ didn't know who they were.

"You'll be scouting the enemy's territory. Your objective in that week is to find an optimal surveillance location and note it. After that week, you will come back to participate in the first raid, which will be taking place in three weeks from now, if you remember. The specifics after that is a little hazy but you'll most likely return after the first raid to continue the infiltration mission."

Stolen. That's what her breath was.

"It's going to be dangerous but the Commission leaders have all agreed that you'll be the best candidate. I contacted them after the official meeting, offering more information about the takeover."

She suddenly understood his tactic. Short and dramatic. That official Commission meeting was _always_ meant to be short and dramatic. He had congregated all the families' representatives to spring the news, throwing their minds into chaos, keeping them from rational thought, and, most importantly of all, disallowing them any room to challenge his plan. And to curb their doubts afterward, he gave them just enough information to pacify them. It was nasty. It was sneaky. And it was _brilliant_. Although he seemed genuinely surprised by the drunk man, it just served to drive his agenda home at the end of the day.

Appreciating his mental tactic, she shook her head in amused astonishment. Andrew knew the second when his daughter understood and nodded appreciatively. _She's so clever._

"Sometimes I think your outside name should've been 'Intelligentsia', instead of 'Blossom', Am." Laughing, he ruffled her hair once more.

" _Now,_ you can go home, my dear daughter. I –" sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose again, "– still have some things to take care of. The price of being the Genovese crime family's boss." Offering her a smile, he looked down at his watch and punched some numbers in, opening the stone slab chamber door.

Her gaze slid from the opening to her suddenly tired-looking father. She didn't want to leave but she knew she had to go. "Alright… ciao, dad." Turning, she started walking out, a number of new information weighing on her mind.

"Ciao," she heard from behind her, making her wonder if she should've stayed.

* * *

Hearing her last words before the light of his life left, Andrew wondered if she should've stayed. He had been hiding a lot from his daughter lately, and it was an absolute pain to have the only person he was truly truthful with in the dark. His watch rang as the stone slab slid closed, alerting him to the news.

He turned away from the closed opening and pressed on of the buttons on his multi-purpose watch. "Yeah, Him?"

* * *

 _A week prior to the present_

She looked around the bar, unimpressed. There was loud music, loud people, and loud drinks. Everywhere. She flicked her red hair over her shoulders, wishing for her lucky hat. Maybe if she had that, her mission would be a little more successful. Well, she had been in Las Vegas for only a few hours but that was long enough to decide that she hated it. Everywhere was grungy. Come on, she knew the Mafia was an occupying force for the majority of the country but couldn't the Government do _something_ to clean up their _capital?_

Dark city, dark bars, and dark people. Practically everyone looked shady, and she dealt drugs!

There was absolutely nothing here – she should move to a different location. Maybe uptown? She figured it would be a little nicer, it _was_ the newest part of town, after al –

The hell. Her eyes tracked the newest arrival to the bar, taking note of him. His short-ish, shaggy flaming red-hair did nothing to hide his blood-red eyes. They seemed to pierce through a person, though they were not settled on her. The lean, slightly taller than average young man floated to the bar, obviously slightly disconnected from his surroundings – not uncomfortable but… _disconnected_ –

He idly ordered a drink. She almost turned back to her own drink, the initial shock of his appearance wearing off, until she noticed…

As the bartender, a short, pretty Hispanic girl, turned away to make the drink, he thumbed some cash from the cash register, smoothly, as if he did it every day. The move was so casual, she almost missed it. It was obvious that the girl was inexperienced, leaving the money unguarded and making the drink before demanding the money, but it still struck her when he offered their own money as payment for the drink. _Holy crap… he legitimately did a "_ _iemand een sigaar uit eigen doos geven"… "to give someone a cigar from [their] own box" …_

 _She would've been impressed if he didn't take out a real cigarette a moment later and motioned that he was going to the back of the club._ _Ugh, clever, handsome, but a smoker… Dad, did_ _you_ _start this brand of guys?_

The drink itself ended up in the hands of a man obviously poor and thirsting for a drink, gifted to him by the red-hair man. Her eyes stumbled over the new information. _He… is an interesting character._

Oh, wait, he was coming close. That's right, she was nearby the back-alley exit. He progressed through the crowd of bodies, his red eyes almost hypnotically entrancing her, never wavering despite bumping into various hookers, drunken men, and tables. Hey, it was dark here, after all.

She closed her eyes, counting the seconds. _Okay, according to the pace he was going before, I think he will be gone… now._ She opened her eyes. And saw his dead, blood-red eyes passing her. The absolute emptiness in his orbs startled her out of her seat. And he passed, exiting into the back-alley, closed off to the world, exempting the heavy, maroon metal door.

Okay, that just pissed her off. He messed up his own timing – who did that!? Other than messing up her perfect timing, his curiously dead eyes permanently glued her interest in the young man. Her secondary objective for being here reverberated in her mind – yes. He's the one.

* * *

 _Present_

She had observed his behavior over the course of the last week. Every day he ordered a drink, either legitimately paid for or stolen (curiously enough, whenever the main barista, a big, fearsome lady, showed up, he legitimately paid for his drink), went to the back-alley for a smoke break, then headed back to the bar. He would then either drink his drink, if he legitimately paid for it, and then be pushed by the big barista to the crowd of people just to disappear or give the drink to some desperate person and leave. It was eerily systematic and robotic. Of course, as soon as she noticed this pattern, the other bartenders _had_ to be on shift. This was the last day she would spend here until she needed to go back to prep for the raid a week from now. Yet… the big barista was here today! This was her chance to enact her plan.

He went through the motions, going to the back for about an hour or two. The big bartender usually guarded his drink, making sure no one swiped or spiked it. Well, she would make sure someone _would_ spike it today. Paying off one of the men to start a fight, she watched the bartender leave her station for a moment, yelling something about the Criminal Wars. She slipped to the drink, pouring her concoction in. _Yup, I've started drugging people to get my agenda now… ah, well._

Slipping away again, she observed the next hour or so in peace. Then he came back.

* * *

With displeasure, she watched the young man take slow, halting drinks of his drink. _Not enough… that's not enough._ Thank god she had a back-up plan. She puckered up her lips and dabbled some _special_ lipstick. Internally, she grimaced, hating the feeling. _Drugs, sex, what else am I going to degrade myself to today?_

She headed over to the DJ, giving him special instructions for old, old music her father loved to death. She quite liked it herself but, more importantly, she hoped that her target enjoyed it too. The drugs would amplify his emotions, especially his pleasure, and, from what she observed, he seemed to greatly dislike modern music. And he _did_. Her eyebrows raised. Of all the time she'd been here, he had _never_ danced. It didn't make sense for the stoic young man to dance but he was surprisingly good at it. Whatever, that was unimportant. She floated generally towards him, examining his reactions. Suddenly, his eyes inexplicably locked onto her, an intensity raging around him she had never seen in him before.

 _Wait, why do I care? I could care less what he's like, as long as he donates the needed parts for the procedure…_

Gracefully, she floated closer and closer towards him, complacently watching his almost violent attempts to get to her. Then he suddenly looked lost – so lost… He dropped to the floor in grief…

 _Oh no… it's amplifying his negative feelings…_

She quickly closed the last few meters, looking down at the kneeling young man below her – so much like her father only a few short weeks ago… _No, stop it! Don't draw connections! Just get it over with – don't feel, don't care, don't desire._

"Hey, you mind if I join you?" The words sort of just slipped out of her, she didn't know when or where they came from. She found herself kneeling down and repeating herself, speaking in such a teasing yet caring voice, "You look a little lonely, you won't mind if I join you, right?"

It was if she was looking at another person from far away. Her voice lowered to a whisper, "I'll take that as a yes."

Her lips met his.


End file.
